


3-2

by engine



Category: Professional Overwatch RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/pseuds/engine
Summary: Losing sucks. Being sick sucks. Sometimes you just need a pep talk.
Relationships: Corey | Corey Nigra/Stratus | Ethan Yankel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	3-2

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like a day in a fugue state after the homestand because corey looked so sad and i love them. 
> 
> extra info: analynn dang is the general manager of the team. [please read this ship manifesto](https://overwatchleague.com/en-us/news/23320957) posted to the overwatch league website.
> 
> thank you, enjoy!

Unsurprisingly, no one was feeling very talkative after a disappointing homestand. Even Ethan was subdued, eyes still a little red, leaning against Corey in the car ride back to the house. They’d played well—really, there were a lot of bright spots, and Corey was trying desperately to hang onto that—but the clawing doubt still crept up his throat. If he hadn’t gotten picked off by Glister; if he’d gotten a couple more picks on Blizzard World; if, if, if. He hated this feeling. He’d decided to go pro because Overwatch was _fun_, and usually even after a loss he could pick himself back up, but this one felt personal in a way other losses didn’t. Maybe that was just the cold talking, though. God, he hoped he didn’t have the flu.

Really he just wanted to sleep it off, both the illness and the loss, and he beelined for his room when they got home. Analynn made a slightly worried face in his direction but let him go, and he tried his best to give her a reassuring smile on his way. He wasn’t sure how well it worked, but Corey figured he was allowed to sulk once in a while without anyone freaking out. He changed quickly out of his uniform, downed the rest of the water still in a glass by his bed, and climbed under the covers.

It took less than five minutes for his bedroom door to creak open; Corey didn’t have to look to know who it was. He did give Ethan a look when he crashed into bed, though, all flailing limbs and pointy elbows. 

“You’ll get sick, dude,” he said, even as he repositioned so they were facing each other.

“Don’t care,” Ethan said, squirming closer so he could tuck his face into Corey’s neck. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Corey smiled despite himself, draping his arm across Ethan’s waist. “Who said it was?”

“I mean, I know you, first of all. There’s all this pressure ‘cuz you’re so good, and you’re probably freaking out ‘cuz you couldn’t carry us all by yourself, and you’re _sick_, and we should’ve been able to help you when you needed us, and we didn’t,” Ethan said, fists tight with frustration. Sometimes Corey forgot that Ethan could get upset too; he ran his hand through Ethan’s hair and felt some of the tension bleed out of Ethan’s shoulders. “Second of all, I fucked up so many times, dude, and I’m mad about it, and we’ll all watch the VODs tomorrow and be disappointed and pissed off together, because seriously. This isn’t all on you. It can’t be.”

A part of him _did_ accept this, knew that Ethan was right, but it was so easy to replay all the close moments in his head, the shots missed, the times he knew he made the wrong decision. Whether it was the illness or luck or just bad fucking play, Corey wasn’t going to ignore the fact that they were all responsible for a loss, and that included him.

Something in his body language must have tipped Ethan off, because he pulled back just far enough to look at Corey with a slight frown. It wasn’t an expression Ethan had often: he lived in extremes in a way Corey never did, and the difference between his usual emotions and this more contemplative one was striking. He’d cried backstage, too, and Corey could see the puffiness around his eyes. 

“Listen to me,” Ethan said, putting his hands on Corey’s cheeks. “It’s not. Your fault. We’ll do better next time. Four more homestands, that’s plenty of chances to kick ass, okay?”

And even though he still wasn’t sure he fully believed that, Corey nodded, because even if he didn’t _believe_ it, Ethan wasn’t exactly _wrong_. They did actually have four more homestands. That finally got Ethan to smile, a subdued, lopsided smile, sweet in the way that always made Corey’s heart pound in his chest. 

“I really wanna kiss you, but I don’t wanna get you sick,” Corey said, voice dropping to almost a whisper, a secret just for the two of them.

“I won’t get sick,” Ethan murmured, tilting his head up. “You should definitely kiss me.”

“You’ll _totally_ get sick,” Corey said, but Ethan was already leaning up, and, as usual, Corey didn’t want to let him down.

“I won’t, I promise,” he managed to say against Corey’s lips, still smiling, before they were kissing, softer and more careful than they might otherwise be. Ethan wound his arms around Corey’s neck, tugging him closer, and Corey let himself be maneuvered half on top of him, one hand on Ethan’s hip. Ethan kissed him like he was apologizing for something, and part of Corey hated that feeling, but the rest of him couldn’t help but feel grateful. To know he wasn’t the only one feeling like crap; to know someone was willing to take some of that weight off his shoulders; to have that someone be Ethan, specifically; it settled in his chest, heavy and warm, reassuring in a way a pep talk from the coaching staff could never be.

He pulled back, resting their foreheads together, eyes still closed. Ethan had one hand in his hair, the other holding tightly to his shoulders, like he was worried Corey was planning to leave. Doubtful. He felt trapped in Ethan’s orbit; the professional contract was just a bonus. 

“Two weeks,” Ethan said, looking up at him, a bit of the usual cockiness back in his expression. “We’ll win next time.”

Corey felt himself smiling too, entirely without his permission. That happened a lot when Ethan was involved. “Another promise, huh?”

“I’m _great_ at promises,” Ethan said, slinging his ankle over Corey’s, twining them together even more. Corey wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, curling around him, burying his face in Ethan’s hair. “I also promise to drink a whole glass of emergen-C in the morning, because I know you’ll freak out otherwise.”

“Thank you,” Corey said, voice muffled, still smiling. By the way Ethan’s arms tightened around him, Ethan clearly knew Corey meant more than just the emergen-C. “I’d kiss you more but I’m about to pass out.”

Ethan reached down to tug the comforter back up and over them, seemingly happy to stay in Corey’s arms for the rest of the night. “Go to sleep, I’ll be here in the morning, hopefully not sick and ready to be kissed.”

Corey huffed out a laugh, enjoying the comforting weight of Ethan pressed up against him underneath the blanket. There would always be bad games. That was the nature of anything competitive. It sucked, but part of the job was figuring out how to come back stronger next time, right? 

“Sleeeeep,” Ethan said, somehow knowing Corey was still lost in thought, and, still smiling, Corey finally did. 


End file.
